


If you could remember, would you forget?

by graveltotempo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abused Stiles Stilinski, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Creeper Peter Hale, Feelings, M/M, Magic-Users, Memory Loss, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 23:36:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7778068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graveltotempo/pseuds/graveltotempo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles shook his head. "My name is Stiles Blair. I’ve lived in Brooklyn my entire freaking life. My parents are both dead, my mom died of childbirth, my dad of heart ache, I don’t even know the guys. I was adopted by Blair Pack, and so was Mitch, they are our parent. I have a Pack, and my boyfriend is Teddy here. I am not your guy."</p><p>- except that he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you could remember, would you forget?

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh

“Yo, Stiles, heads up!” called a female voice, just as a flying remote came and collided with his head, sending him lying on the ground with a groan.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Violet!” he half growled, still laying on the ground, and pretending not to hear the various snorts coming from the couch where the girls were sat.

Not that he _wasn’t_ used to being repeatedly hit on the head, he thought, massaging what he hoped wasn’t the beginning of a nasty headache, and finally standing back up.

The girl who had sent the flying remote at him grinned, impudent as ever, and turned her attention back on the show that was playing. Stiles glared. “Why do you always to resort to violence, uh, Vi? Violence is not the answer! Vendetta is bad! Very bad.” He complained, sitting down next to a boy with dark brown hair who immediately snuggled next to him.

Said boy looked at him, fully judgemental from behind the frame of his glasses. “That’s not what you said when Mitt stole the last of your cereals, yesterday.” He pointed out, earning a bark like laugh from the blond boy laying on the floor in front of them.

Stiles scrunched up his nose. “But Mitt deserves everything he gets,” he mumbled.

The blonde Asian wordlessly flicked him off, making Stiles laugh again.

It was strange, how close he was to these kids, when they had known each other for just about 6 months. Well, with the exception of Mitchell. He and Mitch had been best friends forever; they were the _from the womb to the tomb_ kind of deal.

They shared their passion for surfing the internet and reading comic books, but that was about the end of the similarities. [Mitchell Blair](http://weheartit.com/entry/254018720/in-set/110978290-the-drama-club?context_user=justanothersalma) had long blonde hair that she sternly straightened every morning and two bright blue eyes, one single nose ring and too many stupid tattoos. Her life goal was finding a filthy rich old man to marry and then create the perfect murder: she wanted all the good things of being a sugar baby without having to give any sugar, basically. She studied Art at Columbia University and was the official owner of the house where they lived.

Stiles studied Mythology instead, as well as training to be a self-taught Emissary for their Pack. Because yes, werewolves were real and Stiles was part of a Pack. He couldn’t even remember when it was that Mitchell told him what she was, but he had accepted it like a champ and was now holding the position of Head Beta in the Blair Pack.

The pack was formed by him, Head Beta and mage, two other girls, 3 other boys and Mitchell, the human Alpha. She had become such after killing a werewolf Alpha, but as far as Stiles could remember, she had always been what she was.

The wolves of the Pack were three: [Mitt Li Zuntian](http://weheartit.com/entry/254024993/in-set/110978290-the-drama-club?context_user=justanothersalma), a half Chinese boy with spiky bleached hair and a ever present smile on his face. He was the kind of boy who you were immediately terrified of (seriously, he had muscles like mountains) but then you found out he helped old women crossing the road and picked up women with 1930s pickup lines. 

Then there was [Morgan Lerman](http://weheartit.com/entry/253660345/in-set/110978290-the-drama-club?context_user=justanothersalma), Californian raised and bred that was at Columbia thanks to a scholarship, and was made of everything _cute_. He had light brown eyes and dark hair, and wore nerd glasses that made him look about 10 times cuter than he already was. He was kind of the puppy of the entire Pack, and was as such, fiercely protected by them all.

The last wolf was [Josephine Hewitt](http://weheartit.com/entry/253849005/in-set/110978290-the-drama-club?context_user=justanothersalma), a goth girl with blue/purple (“ _It’s indigo Stiles, learn the fucking difference_!”) hair and a pennant for wearing dark lipsticks and sunglasses around the house. She was kind of the older sister no one wants to have that lives in her bedroom all day, but that you’d miss if she left. She was evil, but no one would ever ask her to change.

The other human girl was [Violet Rodriguez](http://weheartit.com/entry/254486356/in-set/110978290-the-drama-club?context_user=justanothersalma), an actual Latina pansexual princess with the grace of an elephant and the looks of an angel. She could be incredibly sweet when she wanted, batting her baby blue eyes to control the world, but she was an actual harpy. At least Josephine was open with her evilness: Violet was good at hiding.

The last human of the pack was [Frederick Anderson](http://weheartit.com/entry/193109416/in-set/110978290-the-drama-club?context_user=justanothersalma), an evil boy who had been gifted with the best smile, the best teeth, the best eyes, the best hands, the best laugh and the worse ever luck with girls. Or boys. He was built like a Greek god and had an amazing jawline, but other than being amazing eye candy, people didn’t seem to be taking him seriously at all. He was mostly in an on/off relationship with Stiles which the Pack loved to bet on.

It was a small Pack, made up completely of teenagers who had very high GPAs and went to Columbia, but it felt like home. It felt safe, and Stiles loved every minute of it. He truly did.

But _sometimes_ … sometimes it felt as if it was all a _dream_. Sometimes Stiles felt as if none of this was real, that there was something big he was missing, something he was forgetting.

Sometimes it felt like everything was _wrong_.

“Stilessss…” called Violet, snapping him out of his thoughts. The rest of the pack was looking at him in worry, and he immediately smiled.

“See, Violet? That’s what happens when you throw a remote at a person.” He complained, and everyone immediately calmed down. As the Head Beta, he was almost like the heart and the brain of the Pack. In battle, he was the one who called the shots and detailed the plans. And when they were safely in their den, he and Mitchell were the ones who affected the moods of the Pack the most.

They fell silent then, contenting themselves with watching the show about gay demon hunters and bisexual warlocks; Stiles was perched on the sofa with Momo (“Stop calling me that, my name is _Morgan_!” “That sounds fake, but okay, Momo.”) cuddled next to him, while Vi (“Vi is the nick for Virginia, though.” “Trust me, you’re anything but a _virgin_ -ia”) and Jo (“Call me Josephine and I’ll make you taste your own nuts.”) were sprawled on the couch and Mitt laid on the ground.

The peace was broken a few minutes later, when Teddy (“God fucking damn it, Stiles, how do you go from Frederick to Teddy?”) and Mitchell walked into the house. The girl was frowning, her phone in her hands, and the boy immediately sandwiched himself between the two girls.

Mitchell smiled thinly when the rest of the Pack looked at her in worry. “Do not worry, guys. Nothing serious. I just need to speak to Stiles.” She told them, ruffling Morgan’s hair as he let go of the human’s waist. She gave him a small kiss on the head, then grabbed Stiles’ hand and walked out of the small apartment with him.

They didn’t speak at all as they made their way down the front road, still holding each other’s hand. It wasn’t unusual for Mitchell to act like this, all secretive and such, but it still drove Stiles up the wall with worry.

“A werewolf pack is coming up here to meet with us tomorrow.” She said in the end, almost conversationally. “And I met three of them earlier today, an Alpha and his two betas.”

Stiles tilted his head to the side, judging her reaction. “Were they disrespectful or did they challenge your position somehow?” he asked her, trying to gauge her reaction.

She seemed calm when she spoke. “No, they were actually incredibly respectful. They are here, actually, for the same witch that has been annoying us the last couple of weeks. Apparently she stole someone close to them, and they want him back.” She quietened as they approached Central Park, and Stiles remained silent too, until they found a seat.

Only then he turned to face her, a hand going on her hair and twirling it between his fingers. “One of them did something, didn’t he?” he guessed, and she nodded, not even trying to hide it.

She licked her lips before speaking. “The thing is… he didn’t _do_ anything _._ He didn’t speak at all during the meeting, but something about the way he moved, something about the way he _looked_ at me… it was unsettling. I’ve never met that man before, but the moment I looked into his blue eyes, the blood chilled in my veins.” She admitted.

It was quite a powerful statement, coming from Mitchell. She hardly ever spoke about anything that scared her, and just the way she described that man showed him how much he actually had terrified her. He held her hand tight in his. “We don’t have to meet with him, or with his Pack. Columbia is our territory, we have the right to send them away, we don’t have to-”

The girl shook her head quickly, holding up a hand to interrupt him. “I’m not worried he will attack me, not with you and the pack present. I’m just explaining why I was upset.” She bumped her forehead with his. “Frederick was quite upset at my reaction himself, without being a wolf… I wanted to speak about it with you and calm down before I returned to them.” She explained.

Stiles sighed, holding up their entwined fingers. “Well, first thing we’re going to do is research who this Pack is, see if we can find anything fishy about them. And then… _que sera’, sera’.”_ He finished, standing back up.

Mitchell smiled at him, kissing his cheek. “ _Que sera’, sera’_.” She agreed.

* * *

Stiles didn’t even look up when a familiar weight settled on his back, reaching up to scratch Morgan’s stray cat on the head. “Hey, milk stealer.” 

Frederick settled down on the table next to him, peering on the screen. “Found out anything interesting?” asked him the green eyed boy.

At the moment, they were in the off stage of their relationship. Stiles just grunted. “Hale family. Old blood, old money. Fucking huge fire that ended up killing every member of the family. 3 survivors, namely Peter Hale, Laura Hale and Derek Hale. Laura Hale recently deceased, classified animal attack. Peter Hale was basically dead for years and kept in hospital with severe burns, disappeared from the hospital a while back and found dead in front of his old house. Derek was suspected, but cleared since it looked like a wolf attack.”

Frederick hummed, hand on his chin. “Probably werewolves. Family feud?” he questioned.

“Definitely werewolves, there are no clear pictures of any of the Hales. More likely an Alpha power thing, Laura was the eldest daughter of the family, Peter was the uncle. Anyway, someone named Cora Hale resurfaced a few months ago, a missing sister that was supposed to be dead. And that’s about all I can find about them.” He concluded, cracking his hand bones with a smirk.

The other boy rolled his eyes. “Good job, babes. Meanwhile, Mitchell got some news for us all. How do you feel about pretend relationships?”

The brunette groaned, head-butting the table. “Who am I with? Is it Mitt? Please tell me it’s not Mitt, he takes it as an excuse to use me as a teddy bear, I hate it.” He complained.

Frederick just laughed. “At first Mitch wanted to play it off as if you and her were married, but Vi pointed out that it’d look improper for an Alpha and his Head Beta to bump uglies, and Mitt said that me and you are also basically dating so that we should be together. We thought about Momo and Mitch, but that would leave Mitt with Jo and Vi, and absolutely nope, we learnt something from the last wolf meeting. So we decided Mitt and Mitch together, and Jo and Vi with Momo.” 

Stiles nodded putting the cat down on the floor, and leaning in towards Frederick. “Well, then, Teddy- guess the Alpha wants _us_ to bump uglies.” He said, kissing the laugh out of the other boy.

The thing was… Stiles _liked_ Frederick- or Teddy, like he liked to call him. He loved him like he loved everyone in the Pack and maybe sometimes more, but… not _enough_. He always felt weird with Teddy, like he was lying to himself, like there was something missing. But at the same time he fit so perfectly with him.

Everyone at school was sure they would end up married at some point, but both of them knew that it was too farfetched. It wouldn’t work. Never in a million years.

They both knew it, even if they never spoke of it. They ignored the proverbial elephant in the room, as Stiles pulled Frederick closer, licking his lips and holding him tight against himself.

“The rest are all already together for a big puppy pile.” Murmured Frederick, his voice hoarse and his breath tickling Stiles’ ear. The brunette latched his legs on Frederick’s waist, putting his arms around his neck with a smirk. “But do you wanna cuddle with the pack… or with me?” 

The green eyed boy just rolled his eyes at the question, and then rolled both of them on top of Stiles’ bed.

* * *

The dreams never started in the same way, but always finished similarly. And when he woke up, he surely knew that it was a dream; but during it, he could just roll and toss, and hold back sobs that racketed his entire body.

He dreamed of faceless people he had never met, and every time, his shouts died in his throats and his eyes spilled tears for those people he knew he couldn’t save.

All he got was _flashes, beige and red hair, and then blood, soaking her body, her face, her hair, the entire football pitch, covering him in it until he couldn’t see her anymore over the liquid; and then two wolves, crying at the moon, until their eyes turned deep red and gold, and they started attacking each other, trying to tear the other apart, and snarling promisingly at where Stiles was tied up on the tree; a huge lizard like creature that had his body freezing when he saw him, and then literally immobilise him, rending him useless as he watched an old blue jeep slowly coming down towards him to crush him; there was a girl with dark hair and arrows, that threw them at everyone, him included, before she accepted a gun from the hands of an older blonde woman and shot him and every wolf present; three beta wolves attacking an High School were Stiles was for some reason present, killing machines with nothing to help them control each other; and then came the worse._

_ Claws deep in his body, preventing him from leaving; Mitchell next to him screaming, calling for help and crying, terrified; the wolf flashing red, and blue, and human eyes all at once, looking like he got off their pain and their fright; claws leaving signs all over his body, that hurt and stung like hell; fangs that performed two small punctures on the side of his neck, a promise of someday turning him; and then sudden ferociousness when Mitchell kicked him in the face, the savage way he threw himself at him, voice hoarse when he begged that he let the girl go and take him instead; cries and pain when the man threw himself in Stiles, when he ravished him like a dog with a bone, when he inflicted him pain and more pain, leaving Stiles as a shell of what he was. _

_ But that wasn’t even the worst part of the Nightmare. The worst part was when Stiles found himself somewhat clean, and walked inside another house, to see all this faceless people looking at him smiling, but only seeing those blue eyes of death and the pain, completely at ease where he was, smiles curved in the promise of something worse if Stiles spoke. That’s when Stiles usually started screaming. _

Stiles trashed in his bed, shaking and trying to contain the sobs, but it was futile. The lights turned on in a few seconds, and he had a Morgan in his lap in even less. Frederick didn’t question him, just fixed their clothes and then held him closer to himself, sandwiching Morgan between the two of them. And then Mitchell was throwing herself behind Stiles, Mitt was sprawled half on Stiles with his head on Mitchell’s waist, Josephine was laying at everyone’s feet while Violet threw herself in, awkwardly manoeuvring it until she was laying and obnoxiously touching every member of the Pack.

Then, she glared at Stiles, giving him a kiss on the cheek.  “ Now, sleep . Buenas noches, y que tengas dulce sueños.”  Everybody quietened down after that.

Until, “Wait, does this mean I will have to kiss you?” Everybody just laughed, but nobody actually answered him. Okay, they were all totally evil people who wanted to see Mitt trying to kiss Mitchell. Sue them.

* * *

The Hale Pack was bigger than Mitchell had expected. Yes, the man had told her that there were seven beta werewolves and the Alpha, plus two human girls, but she hadn’t expected them all to turn up. But she wasn’t unprepared.

She just nodded pleasantly at all of them, and directed them towards the garden, where Josephine and Mitt were placing the tables. Both wolves scrunched their noses at the number of people, but just nodded and disappeared back inside to fetch more chairs.

The Alpha of the Hale Pack (Stiles had told her his name was Derek) sat down in front of her, with the older blue eyed man standing right behind him, giving her a pleased smile. She shuddered, and glanced at the two people taking seats at either side of the Alpha; one was a dark boy with a poker face that could rival her own and impressive built; the other was a girl with brunette hair that made a show of putting down her bow and quiver once she sat down, smiling at Mitchell as she did so.

Mitchell smiled too, not at all impressed with the show of strength, and mentally patted herself on the back when two people came to a stand next to her. Frederick remained impassable as he glanced at the Hale Pack, towering impressively over everyone sat. Violet smiled, dropping a kiss on each of her pack mate’s head, and waving adorably at the rest of the Pack. They were both humans; Mitchell knew how to play her cards.

She waited until Josephine and Mitt reappeared with chairs before talking. “Good morning, Alpha Hale.” She greeted, meeting his eye head on and refusing to acknowledge the man behind him.

The other Alpha nodded. “You can call me Derek.” He offered. “This is my second, Vernon Boyd, and this is Allison _Argent_.” The way he pronounced her surname seemed to be important, but she kept her face completely blank. “And the rest of my betas: Jackson, Lydia, Scott, Isaac, Erica, Cora… and my uncle, Peter Hale.” He spoke slowly, barely concealing a nervousness that Mitchell wasn’t new to. He hadn’t been an Alpha for long. Also, according to Stiles, Peter Hale was dead. Maybe that was why she felt off about him?

“I’m Alpha Blair.” She didn’t offer him to call her Mitchell. “My Head Beta is not here at the moment, along with another member of the Pack. But this four are my betas: Josephine, Violet, Mitt and Frederick.” She explained, not bothering to point out who was who. She sat straighter, now that she was sure Frederick had his eyes on Peter and was not going to let him attack or do anything. “You mentioned the witch.”

Derek nodded, looking from Frederick back to her. “Yes. We would like permission to deal with her, or just to speak to her. She had been granted permission to stay in our territory for a while, and all we asked of her was not to use her magic on any of the population. And instead she made our pack mate disappear. We know he’s not dead, but we can’t feel him anymore. He’s… he’s gone.” He explained, swallowing hard and glancing down at his hands with a frown. The girl next to him scooted closer to him, and nodded at Mitchell.

“We’ve tracked her down here, and, since she refuses to answer our letters and emails vary, we decided to follow her up in Columbia. Has she done anything particular to you?” she asked, her brown eyes boring into hers.

Mitchell tilted her head, and Josephine started talking. “She repeatedly tried to kidnap our Alpha and Head Beta. Each time, we have managed to send her away, but she refuses to go. If we find her, we’re talking to her and then putting her down.” She said, with a barely concealed snarl. Violet smiled serenely, entwined her fingers with Josephine, while moved closer to Mitchell, mirroring Peter Hale’s position. Frederick remained still and silent, arms crossed as he glared at the other beta werewolf.

Allison frowned. “Put her down?” she asked, confused.

Mitt smiled, showing a row of perfectly pointed teeth, but it was Frederick who spoke. “She came into our territory uninvited, threatened our Alpha, attacked members of the Pack, refused dialogue with any of us and used violence as the only mean of communication; she’s lucky if we only put her down.” He said, voice mild and glancing away from Peter just for a fraction of second to meet everyone’s eyes.

“I hope you understand.” Finished Mitchell, her face still blank. The message was clear: put a foot out of step, and they would be the next on the Blair’s pack hit list.

Everyone looked up suddenly, as the main gate opened, and a few seconds later Stiles and Morgan appeared. The brunette was holding the younger boy in his arms, and for a moment Mitchell lost her composure, looking at the blood all over her two beta’s clothes. Then she blinked, and stood up, once again Alpha Mitchell Blair.

“What happened?” she asked, standing up immediately. Frederick twitched, but his eyes remained on the other pack, as he and Violet went to stand between them and their Pack. Mitt pushed the table away from the middle, as Josephine hurried to help the other two boys.

The brunette’s eyes were wide, and he forced himself to breathe through his nose before talking. “The witch, she… attacked us. Attacked me, and Morgan threw himself at her. She hexed him or something, there was wolfs bane, and blood, and I don’t know…”

Mitchell was immediately in front of him, eyes stern. “Stiles. Breathe.” She ordered, and didn’t miss the way the other Pack sucked in a breath at the name. But she needed him to calm down first. “Is Morgan okay now?”

The wolf looked up at her from where Josephine and Mitt were taking away his pain with a worried face. “Not my blood. Sti kind of went crazy on the witch.” He explained, fixing his crooked glasses and wincing. “He had to break a lot of bones to trigger the healing process, which was relatively unpleasant.”

“Mitchell.” Called Frederick, his voice tense. His entire body language was stiff, and she could tell that her orders were the only thing keeping him with his eyes glued on the Hale Pack and Peter Hale.

The blonde turned to the other werewolves. “Mitt, Josephine, you up.” She said, and both of them laid one kiss on top of Morgan’s head, looked worriedly at where Stiles was crunched on the floor before sidling up to Violet and Frederick.

The two humans immediately walked away, Violet coming to a halt next to the table and carefully wrapping her arms around Morgan while Frederick just sat down next to Stiles, caging him in his arms. 

“Teddy?” 

“Shh, babe. Just breathe. I’m here.” Promised the green eyed boy. He nodded at Mitchell and the girl nodded back, stopping next to Morgan.

“You going to be okay? What happened to the witch?” she asked, petting his hair over Violet. The Hale Pack was staring at them in confusion, but hadn’t moved at all, for which she was grateful.

Morgan winced again, and then just dropped his glasses on the ground next to him. “Sti injured her, like a lot. And he can track her,” he pointed a hand in the general direction of the blood, “blood tracking. This time we got her.”

Violet turned to look at Mitchell. “This time, we’re breaking her. We’re going to fucking facture every bone of her body, and then burn her in acid, and shove a meter of mistletoe up her freaking-”

“Okay, Violet, I think I’m going to throw up,” interrupted her Mitt, making a face and jerked his head in the direction of the other Pack, not bothering to play it subtle.

Mitchell finally turned to the Hale Pack. Derek and one of his betas, the one with uneven jaws that was either Scott or Isaac, were staring at the point where Frederick was covering Stiles from view, trying to help him through the panic attack, a look of shock on both their faces. The rest of the Pack was glancing towards him too, but seemed more curios with what was happening to Morgan and the rest.

She smiled. “As you can see, she’ll be lucky if we let her speak to you at all.”

But Derek was barely listening. “Stiles? Is that Stiles?” he asked, his heartbeat raising very quickly. Peter Hale stood straighter.

Mitchell narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know Stiles? We’ve never even met you before.”

Another of the betas moved forward, with an eye roll. “Stiles will recognise us. We’ve been friends for literally years, and-”

He trailed off, and Mitchell didn’t need to turn around to see Stiles and Frederick finally moving closer, hand in hand. Stiles stopped once he was next to her, tugging down the hood of his hoodie, and nodding at the Hale Pack. “The Hale Pack, I suppose?” he asked, glancing at them distractedly before turning to look at his Alpha.

Mitchell didn’t answer, eyeing the way the Pack was reacting to him. The beta with the uneven jaw was smiling incredibly bright, like he just saw a long lost brother. The red head’s face was blank, but she seemed stiff, barely containing herself. The other three girls looked various degree of happy, while the male betas were just hiding smiles behind a poker face. The tall blond beta was also beaming, only holding himself back by little. 

Derek and Peter were the most interesting. Derek was staring at Stiles in the hopeful sort of way Mitchell had gotten used to associate with the students of Columbia with a real crush on him. They always looked like him breathing took away their own breaths.

Peter’s look gave her the creeps. He was staring at him with a calculator gleam in his eyes, intense and continuous, like somebody observing a car he knew he was going to own one day.

Mitchell turned to face Stiles, who was still looking at her expectantly. “Stiles, do you recognise these people?” she asked in the end.

The brunette seemed startled by the question, before he turned to face the Hale Pack. Stiles’ face had always been an open book for her, and she observed him as he raked his eyes over all of the members of the Pack. There was a perplexed confusion in his eyes when faced with the hopefulness in the Pack’s face.

The only time his face changed at all was when he laid eyes on Peter. It was fleeting, but Mitchell was looking for it. His eyes widened for a second, and he made an aborted move, like he was about to take a step back, but then stilled. But Mitchell knew that look on his face, even when it went blank as he took in Derek and Allison. It was the same look she had sported the day before when she had seen Peter Hale.

Stiles blinked and turned back to Mitchell with a smile. “No, never seen them in my life. Why?”

* * *

According to the Hale Pack, Stiles was the human member the witch had stolen from them the year before. His name was Stiles Stilinski (“What kind of parents would name their son _Stiles Stilinski?_ ”), his mother was the deceased Claudia Stilinski (“Well duh, my mom _did_ die of childbirth”), his father was Sheriff Stilinski (“A cop? That’s awful, I _hate_ cops, you definitely got the wrong guy”), and they both lived in Beacon Hills, California (“Nope, I’ve never even _seen_ California. I mean, look at my skin, I’m _paler_ than _pale_ ”), he liked to wear his hair short, buzz cut, (“Why would I do that?! I’ve sold my soul to the devil to have this cool hair, I’m the fella over there with the hella cool hair”), his best friend was Scott McCall (“No offense, dude, but Mitch here is my gal pal number _one_ ”), he had had a long crush on Lydia Martin for half his life (“Again, you’re pretty, but… no.”) and he was dating the Alpha werewolf Derek Hale (“…what”).

They didn’t seem to be lying, but Stiles was clearly not lying either. They could tell. He looked uncomfortable at their presence, but nothing personal… Stiles didn’t really like strangers.

One thing though, he kept Peter Hale in clear sight, just like Mitchell did, clearly not trusting the man more than she did, and avoiding looking or talking to him at all.

“Look guys,” started Stiles, putting his hands on the table, and then away when Peter glanced at them, “your Stiles seems like a cool guy and everything, but he isn’t me. My name is Stiles _Blair_. I’ve lived in _Brooklyn_ my entire freaking _life_. My parents are both _dead_ , my mom died of childbirth, my dad of heart ache, I don’t even know the guys. I was adopted by Blair Pack, and so was Mitch, _they_ are our parents. I love my hair like this, and I am not entirely sure I can pin point California on the map- lies, I know I can, but point! Mitchell is my best friend slash sister slash gal pal slash half of the reason I’m awesome; I already have a pack, Momo, Kermitt, Jojo, Vi… and Teddy is my boyfriend. I’m not your guy.” He stressed, shrugging helplessly.

Mitchell looked away at the defeated look on Derek’s face. It almost hurt, the raw pain in his face as he looked at Stiles, like his heart had been shattered yet again. All their faces were crumpled in various degrees of pain and heartache; except Scott’s.

The beta shook his head. “Look, I know it sounds hard to believe-”

“It really doesn’t, I don’t buy it one bit.” Pointed Stiles off handily.

“But I know it’s you. Because I’ve known you forever, and you’re my best friend, and I know everything about you, Stiles. Some things might seem different, but I know you. For example, you have a heart shaped mole at the base of your neck.” He continued.

Stiles pulled a face. “No I don’-”

“How do you know that.” Asked Frederick, stepping in front of Stiles as the other boy froze, his hand grazing over the said mole. “Nobody but me knows of that, so I ask you: how do you know that.”

Scott raised his hands. “It’s like a said, it’s a spell, a hex, a something: the witch. She must know.” He turned to look at Stiles again. “Your favourite food is curly fries.” Stiles looked at him startled. “You love the colour red-”

“Enough.” Stiles’ voice was quiet, but it held power; Scott closed his mouth with an audible snap. “I don’t know who gave you this information on me, but I don’t trust it. I don’t believe you. I’ve had a shit day as it is, and I really can’t with this bullshit today, so, if you’re done with the mind games, come tomorrow.”

Derek looked like he was about to cry, but he pulled himself together before he faced Mitchell again. “Alpha Blair?” he asked.

She stood up, stretching out her hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Derek Hale.” She promised.

And before she could react, Peter was holding her hand too, dropping a kiss on top of it with a smile that was all teeth. Mitchell felt bile in her throat at the look in the man’s face. “Thank you for your time, Alpha.” He said slowly, holding her hand longer than necessary. He looked like her worse nightmare come to life, the same blue eyes that troubled her and Stiles’ dreams.

Because, she knew deep down that the Hale Pack was probably right. Because there had to be a reason why her worst nightmare was standing in front of her and smiling and existing-

Mitt unceremoniously pushed Peter’s hand off hers. “Yeah, whatever, let’s go, love.” He finished, glaring daggers at the man and positioning himself between her and him, a move that was lost on the rest of the Hale Pack.

Except for the red head, who tracked the movements like she could relate to them.

Whatever it was, Mitchell was more terrified of Peter Hale than she had ever been of the witch.

* * *

“Peter Hale is the man from my nightmares.” Confessed Mitchell, the moment Morgan was finally better and cuddled up on the couch with the rest of the Pack.

“And mine.” Added Stiles, exchanging a look with her.

Josephine pulled down her shades, her electric blue eyes focusing on both of them. “You think they’re telling the truth?” she asked, sceptical.

Mitchell glanced at Stiles. He bit his lip. “I don’t think they’re lying,” he started, holding the cushion tighter in his lap, “But it makes no sense. Me and Mitch…”

Violet had stayed quiet during the entire thing, and she finally turned to speak. “Me and Mitt have spoken, and some things match. Some things about you and Stiles… they’re weird. Really weird.” She stopped them before they could even ask. “Stiles, answer this. What did you do for your 17th birthday?” she asked, looking at the brunette expectantly.

Stiles glared, but then his face went blank. He frowned for a few seconds. “I don’t really remember.” He finished, and then looked at Mitchell in horror. “Oh god, I don’t remember what I did for any of my birthdays.”

Mitchell shook her head. “We always eat homemade cupcakes, I remember that.”

“What kind of cupcakes, Mitch?” asked Mitt, with a raised eyebrow.

She quietened, trying to remember… but she couldn’t. Her mind only offered cupcakes, not any actual memory of them eating cupcakes. “I… I don’t know.”

“What did you guys do last summer?”

The blonde closed her eyes, trying hard to remember, but… there was nothing. Only blankness.

“Holy fucking shitty hole of bums.” Cursed Stiles, and glanced at the girl next to him like he was seeing her for the first time. “What the fuck?”

Morgan insinuated himself between Stiles and Mitch, holding both of their hands tight in his. “Look, it doesn’t matter. You two are still Sti and Mitch. You’re still our amazing pack members. We still love you. Nothing has to change.”

Everything already had.

* * *

Tracking down the witch wasn’t as hard as they had feared. It was almost as if she was waiting for them, sitting in a mountain ash circle that did nothing to stop the Human Alpha or Stiles from walking right up to her.

She was old, with graying hair and light blue eyes and looked like a grandmother, really. It was hard imagining that she was the cause of all their problems.

“I am sorry.” She started, not looking at either of them in the eye.

Mitchell scoffed. “There time for being sorry is long gone. You tried to kill Morgan; now it’s personal.”

The witch sighed. “Just… don’t let Peter Hale get to me, please, and I’ll explain everything. I’ll show you everything.” She begged, going down on her knees.

Stiles glared, but his interest had been piqued. “Why should we trust you?” 

“Because you know Peter Hale, you’ve seen him, and you might not remember him, but you can guess what he is capable of.” She looked up at them with wide eyes. “He wants you dead.”

Mitchell glanced at Stiles. He nodded. “Why?”

The witch bit her lip, and then started to speak. “He hurt you both. He did the unspeakable to Stiles, and forced you there to watch what was happening to him. He wanted to kill Mitchell for the Alpha power, he thought it was wasted on a human.

You never knew each other, but after you escaped him, you stuck together. Because no one believed you about Peter; the police knew him dead, the Hale Pack wouldn’t believe you. And you came to me.

You asked for it, for your memories to be erased, for a new chance, and I pitied you. I helped you. 

And Peter knew I knew, and Peter Hale is made of dark magic, more powerful stuff than my Harry Potter potions. There are worse things than death, and he threatened to kill me if I didn’t bring you both back to him. And now he found you, and he won’t let you go.” She finished, looking down at her hands.

Mitchell didn’t want to believe her. But all she saw was her nightmares, nightmares of Stiles in a pile of blood while the man with blue eyes ruined him, taunted him, _hurt_ him repeatedly were firmly stuck in her mind.

“She’s right. I won’t let you go.” Said a voice from the other side of the room, and Mitchell froze. Because of course, there was Peter Hale, with a gun in his hand pointed straight at her, smiling with werewolf teeth and blue manic eyes.

Peter nodded at the witch. “Gabriella, hi. I’ll deal with you soon. Lemme see my beautifuls, first.” He cooed, raking his eyes over Mitchell and Stiles’ body.

Stiles felt filthy, wrong and impure just at the way the man looked at him. It was like he was stuck in a nightmare again, but this time it didn’t go away when he opened his eyes.

“Gotta say, you two lead in me in such a chase. Of course, you don’t even remember what he had. Me and you two. Such a special relationship.” He advanced towards them, and Stiles really wished his legs stopped shaking like that, he wished he wasn’t so scared of an old man like him. Peter licked his lips. “We should create some new ones; don’t you think?”

Stiles prepared himself to strike, but Peter was yet again faster. He shot towards the witch, and then knocked Mitchell out with a single blow of the gun barrel. Stiles let out a cry as his best friend crumpled to the floor, and Peter was in front of him again, hot breath ghosting over his skin. “Hey, baby. Long time, no see.” He murmured, and Stiles felt physically ill.

Peter’s hand showed him claws and Stiles closed his eyes. Peter punched him in the face. “Keep your eyes open!” roared the werewolf, shaking him when Stiles rolled himself in a ball to keep him out.

“Please, please don’t, please…” he begged, but Peter just kicked him in the ribs, sending him across the room.

Stiles kept his eyes shut, letting tears roll down his cheeks and hid his face in his arms, hoping, hoping, hoping…

And then he heard snarls in the room, and the sound of an arrow going off, and a loud howl ripping the room. The Hale Pack.

The moment he saw Scott and the betas up against Peter he started crawling again, trying to reach out for Mitchell, and hoping she wasn’t dead, hoping Peter Hale didn’t take her away from him-

“NO!” He shouted, struggling against the body that was now holding him down and kicked, trying to get him off him. “I need- Mitchell! Mitch!”

“Stiles.” He didn’t shout his name. Just a whisper, a silent plea, and Stiles went pliant in his arms, crying in the man’s chest. In Derek’s chest.

And wondered what the fuck was wrong with him, why did he feel safe in a stranger’s embrace, why did Derek make his heart do all those things that he and Teddy faked with each other-

Why was Derek all the things Stiles didn’t know he was missing.

* * *

Peter was dead. Mitchell was fine, surviving the experience with just a concussion that the Pack force cuddled her out of. The witch survived too, explaining everything to everyone again.

There were more tears, and the red head, Lydia Martin, hugged him, asking him for forgiveness. For what, Stiles didn’t know.

Yet.

Stiles was faced with a choice.

He could forget the Hale Pack completely, stay with the Blair Pack, continue to date Teddy, fight with Vi and Josephine, joke with Mitt and look after Morgan, stay with the pack that understood him better than everyone else. But forever know that you gave up your one chance at having someone who clearly loved him and that somehow, he loved back. Keep everything safe and clean. Keep things okay.

Or he could get his memories back, remember what Peter Hale did to him, remember about this disorganized group of people who let Peter hurt him and never realised he wasn’t alright, but still fought teeth and nails to get him back. Have Scott, who knew him like the back of his hands, and Derek, a constant uncertainty. Feeling whole, but being challenged.

He had a choice. He didn’t know which one was right.

Mitchell stood next to him, holding his hand. “You do you, and I’ll follow you through it. You saved me once: I know you’ll do it again. You said it; que sera, sera.”

Whatever will be, will be.

“I want my memories back.”

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like THIS FANFIC ISN'T ENDED, BUT I DON'T KNOW MAN


End file.
